The Lost Generation

by Barb LP

MWPP prequel to the Psychic Serpent Trilogy, also featuring Lily Evans, Snape & Bill Weasley. Hogwarts is a safe haven where Bill has always longed to be-until there are whispers of vampires and werewolves, of Death Eaters and traitors...

10. The Prophecy

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The Lost Generation
(1975-1982)

Chapter Ten

The Prophecy

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Saturday, 11 February, 1978

Lily opened her eyes suddenly.

Where am I?

Then she remembered: she was in the common room, sitting on the window seat with James, watching the snow. But she hadn't been watching for some time; she'd fallen asleep in his arms. What is this—the third time? she wondered, thinking of taking him to her bed after Bonnie had died, and falling asleep on the train after crying on him. It was nice to sleep with James, she thought. Though she was thinking literally of sleeping this made her think of what people usually meant when they spoke of people sleeping together, and she felt a shiver run through her. It was both odd to consider James that way, after so many years, and something that quickened her pulse. She turned her head, to see if he was still asleep, and found him watching her lovingly, his blue eyes dark in the dimness of the pre-dawn, his pupils enlarged to the point where it seemed they were the same color as Severus's or Sirius's

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he whispered to her, kissing her brow.

She smiled. "Trying to make me conceited? If I'm 'Sleeping Beauty,' we'll have to start calling Cecilia 'Queen of the Universe.'"

He shook his head. "Nah. She can't compare to you."

Lily grinned. "I think you may be biased."

His arms tightened around her. "Yes and no. I'm biased in your favor on any number of things you want to name. But I contend that this opinion is a fair and objective assessment."

She turned to face him, putting her hand on his cheek. "You're such a sweet-talker, it's a wonder you haven't had even more girlfriends than Sirius."

He moved his face closer to hers. "I'm more selective than Sirius," he whispered a millimeter from her lips, before brushing his mouth against hers; her lips felt more sensitive than usual, and she slowly opened them slightly, feeling him do the same. His tongue slowly traced her lips, making a tremor shiver through her, and finally, she couldn't stand the teasing anymore and opened her mouth wider, tilting her head to the right, her lips meeting his fully and their breaths co-mingled in what was now one cavity. James couldn't believe this was happening. This was Lily, kissing him passionately, returning his feelings, all of it. He remembered when he'd seen her on the hearth rug with Remus in fifth year, the way she'd thrown back her head in rapture, the sounds she'd made… He drank her in, his hands laced in her hair to hold her head in place. At length, he drew back, kissing her lips tenderly and repeatedly before trailing small kisses down her chin, under her chin, down the long column of white neck, into the V of her nightdress…

Lily's breath hitched as his lips slid along her skin. She turned her head, finding his ear right near her mouth, so she breathed warmly into it, feeling the jolt move through him, making her feel—wonderful.

James James James.

She ached for him. She had had no trouble waiting for him. Was it almost two months since she had last been with Severus? More like three, she thought, as they hadn't slept together during the last month before he broke up with her. It might have been four. She hadn't kept track, and she hadn't missed it, but suddenly, being with James like this—it was entirely different. There was always a certain element of guilt involved with Severus. He was a Slytherin. Her friends all hated him, and he hated them. And the times with Remus had, if possible, been worse, furtive and sometimes bordering on violent, never spoken of, a liaison never acknowledged.

She found his left hand and moved her fingers in his palm and over the back, tracing a pattern on his skin, again and again, making him produce a small groan even as he lavished more attention on her neck. Finally, getting up her nerve, she guided the hand to her chest and placed it gently over her right breast.

He froze for a second before continuing to suck on her neck, daring to cup her breast carefully through the fabric, moving his thumb slowly, feeling the tip harden under the repeated strokes as she pushed her breast into his palm.

Lily gasped, wondering whether their relationship was going to see the quickest consummation in Hogwarts history. We're not even going on our "date" until later, she thought. Although, she remembered ruefully, Remus and I never went out at all.

He switched hands, tenderly caressing her left breast through her nightdress. She drew his mouth to hers again and he didn't protest. They drank each other in greedily, having waited almost seven years for each other. His left hand found her foot, her calf; he drew a soft line up her thigh and her chest hitched with anticipation, but he merely continued to caress her legs, over and over, until she thought she'd melt into a puddle from wanting him so much.

"James? Lily?"

They both jumped, and James fell backward off the window seat onto the hard floor. They both looked up to find Sirius standing at the foot of the stairs in his dressing gown, staring at them, his jaw open in shock.

"Er, I mean—I'll leave you two alone—"

He was gone again. Lily and James looked at each other, red-faced. A slow grin crept across James's face as he regarded her, sitting on the window seat still, the rising sun making her hair glow like an aura. "You're amazing," he whispered. Bonnie had seemed—dutiful. Like she thought a good girlfriend was supposed to do certain things for a good boyfriend, which James was. Lily didn't seem to be going through the motions, fulfilling an obligation. He felt truly wanted, which he never had with Bonnie.

Lily was, however, nothing if not practical. She glanced nervously at the doorway to the boys' stairs. "Was that incredibly gauche of us? I mean—I just told him yesterday that—I mean, it was practically like breaking up with him, though we never—"

James eyed her quizzically. "Why did you consider going out with him, Lily? I thought you'd got over him."

She reddened again, staring at her hands. "I was frightened, and I'm ashamed that I was so cowardly. I quickly saw the light. It was—a reaction. A fearful reaction to the possibility of—of being in a relationship that—" She stopped short, not sure they were ready to have this conversation.

But James thought he knew what she meant. "It's okay, Lily. I think, in a way, that that's what I did with Bonnie. That's why I was rather taken aback by her talking about children and all. I wasn't dating her because I thought we were eventually going to settle down and get married. But she did think that."

Lily decided that it wasn't the time to tell him what she'd told Sirius, about how she thought of him as the sort of man that you married. How to make your new boyfriend run screaming away from you at top speed. Especially when his old girlfriend did essentially the same thing.

She tried to force a laugh. "At any rate, this isn't the most private place in the world, especially since people are starting to move about."

James nodded. "And Sirius has a nasty habit of changing into his you-know-what form and using his highly-sensitive hearing to EAVESDROP ON PEOPLE!" James bellowed suddenly, rising and going to the doorway of the boys' stairs. A large black dog came barreling down the stairs and leapt on him, knocking him onto his back. Lily gasped when he changed back into his human form, sitting on James' legs and holding his hands over his ears.

"What the hell are you trying to do, Potter? Make me deaf?"

Lily and James laughed uproariously. "Serves you right," James said, pushing Sirius off him and standing. Lily shook her head.

"Do you think you—you should do that here? In case someone sees you?"

Sirius smiled. "Everyone else is in bed. But you know, Lily, it's nice that you know. James told me he told you. I don't—I mean—I'm glad we don't have secrets from you anymore," he said softly, gazing into her eyes. Lily felt a pang of guilt; she had let him think she was truly interested in him again when it was merely panic that had driven her to consider dating him.

"I may be the Head Girl," she said quietly, "but I know how to keep a secret."

She went to James and put her hands on his arms. "You should change your clothes. I'm going upstairs to put on warm things for the sleigh ride."

James gazed appreciatively at her thin nightdress; her dressing gown was open over it. "Must you?" he asked, a hitch in his voice and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Suddenly, he moved to the side jerkily; Sirius had pulled on his arm, hauling him toward the stairs.

"Come on, you. Don't you know it's rude to undress your date with your eyes before you arrive to pick her up? Not to mention you've already done your end-of-date snogging. Everything out of order! What am I going to do with you, Potter?" he added as they disappeared up the stairs. She couldn't help laughing and shaking her head on the way to her dorm. She knew Sirius was going to be all right. He was on their side and clearly didn't hold against either of them that he wasn't her new boyfriend.

When she was dressed in two jumpers and thick corduroy trousers, over which she'd buttoned winter wizarding robes and a heavy grey wool winter cloak, she went back to the common room, where James waited for her. He hugged her tightly and she wrapped her arms around him; he seemed to be wearing just a jumper and trousers with wizarding robes. As they embraced he patted her back tentatively. "Are you in there, somewhere?" He seemed stymied by the many layers.

She stuck her tongue out. "Very funny."

His facial expression changed drastically as he gazed at her with a funny look about his eyes. "Do that again," he breathed.

"What?" She frowned.

"Stick out your tongue…"

She dropped her jaw in mock horror. "James Potter! I'm surprised at you."

He drew her to him again. "Surprises are good," he said simply, lowering his mouth to hers. She responded for a split second before she remembered that there were other people in the room. She pulled back and looked around, seeing the shocked expressions on the faces of at least half the students in Gryffindor House. The Head Girl and Head Boy were kissing. Even more surprising, a round of applause suddenly went up from everyone gathered. Some students stood on the furniture, whistling while they clapped. She felt a heat rise from her neck as James grinned at her.

"You're a devil," she whispered.

"Yes, but I'm the devil you know."

She laughed and they left the common room to eat breakfast and enjoy a morning of sleighing in the soft new fallen snow.

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The sleigh ride with James was completely different from the ride with Sirius. She snuggled down under a blanket he'd tucked around both of them, he whistled to the horseless sleigh to move, and soon they were gliding across the snow with the rest of the students. The high sides of the sleigh hid them from the view of anyone who wasn't looking at them head on, and almost immediately, James gazed at her lovingly and leaned in for a kiss. She responded, his hands on her back and her arms around his neck. She wished she hadn't dressed quite so warmly; she felt like James was raising her internal temperature to the point where she could have gone out in her underwear and not feel cold.

At length they brought the sleigh to a stop behind Hagrid's hut and remained there, kissing, until a snowball landed on top of James' head. He kneeled and peered over the back of the sleigh to see who'd thrown it. They saw no one but after he sat again, James surveyed the snow behind the hut with narrowed eyes; two sets of footprints were being created by unseen persons.

He put his finger to his lips to keep Lily silent as he slowly pulled out his wand, keeping it hidden under the blanket draped across their laps. The footprints were coming nearer. James pulled his wand from the blanket and cried, "Accio Invisibility Cloak!"

The silvery cloth flew into his hands, revealing Remus and Sirius, poised with snowballs in their hands, which they immediately began throwing. James stuffed the cloak under the blanket and waved his wand. A cloud of snowballs rose up and began pelting Remus and Sirius, and they looked so comical trying to avoid them, Lily couldn't help laughing, and soon she had tears streaming down her cheeks from laughing so hard.

She and James left the shelter of the sleigh to run about in the snow like their two ambushers, sometimes making and throwing snowballs by hand, sometimes using magic. Then Peter leapt out from around the corner of Hagrid's hut and joined in the fray. After a time, they were all breathless, lying on the snowy ground, smiling at each other, and Lily couldn't think of a time in her life when she'd been happier. She had James, she had good friends, and she had a new snowfall. For now, that was enough.

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Tuesday, 14 February, 1978

"For he's a jolly good fe-eh-low! And so say all of us!"

Charlie grinned at his brother and friends and leaned over the cake his mother had sent in the post, blowing out the twelve candles on the chocolate frosting. Hagrid's voice boomed over all the rest during the singing, and he slapped Charlie on the back so hard he almost wound up with his face in the cake (or with a couple of candles in his eyes).

Hagrid's small abode was cheerful and warm on this winter's day, filled with both Bill and Charlie's friends and colorful streamers, as well as brightly-wrapped presents waiting in a pile for Charlie to unwrap. A huge log crackled merrily in the oversized fireplace and Hagrid's oil lamps sent a comforting glow into the single room.

The candles were removed, the cake sliced, and soon the only sounds were moans of delight as they devoured Molly Weasley's delicious handiwork. When he was finished, Hagrid held his hand before his mouth, his burp echoing throughout the room despite this, and said, "'Scuse me. Blimey! I should take up bakin'. Be brilliant to be able to make sommat like that whenever I please."

"You shudd, 'Agrid, you definite'y shudd," Charlie agreed, his mouth full. He swallowed and said, "The house smells fantastic when Mum's baking, too."

"That settles it. I have me a new hobby," Hagrid decided, helping himself to more cake. Suddenly, the door of the cabin flew open and five more bodies crammed into the room.

"Surprise!" yelled Sirius Black and James Potter. Bill laughed.

"It's not a surprise party," he told them. "But have some cake; there's plenty."

"Don't mind if I do," Sirius said, accepting a large wedge.

"We knew it wasn't a surprise party," Lily said, taking a wrapped package from Remus and Peter. "The surprise is this."

She placed before Charlie something long, bound with brown paper and string. Something in the unmistakable shape of a broom. Charlie lifted awed eyes to the seventh-years.

"Gosh! You don't mean it! I mean—I've been saving my pocket money, hoping I might be able to buy a broom before September—"

James laughed. "What, when you've got this one here? I wish you were on the team this year. We could have used you."

Charlie shrugged. "Can't. First year. Which means—I can't even have this broom, can I? I mean—it is a broom?"

"Open it, you git!" Remus grinned at him and Charlie lost no time tearing the paper apart. A gleaming new Comet sat in the torn wrappings. Charlie gazed rapturously at it, speechless.

"And no, technically you can't own that, as a first year," James said. "However, if it's kept here at Hagrid's…"

Bill stepped up to admire it. "And you have to let me try it, of course," he said, grinning at his brother. "I'll pack it with my things when we go home for Easter. It'll be brilliant, having this to fly around the orchard at home, won't it?"

Charlie nodded, his eyes never leaving the broom. Bill had known all along about the seventh-years' plan; James Potter had been woefully disappointed that he couldn't have Charlie on the Gryffindor team after he saw him flying rings around the other first years in their flying lesson. (As Head Boy, he'd substituted for Madam Hooch when she was under the weather for a few days.) He'd never seen a natural flyer quite like Charlie, and when another student had dropped a pet toad out of his pocket during a flying mishap wherein the other boy wound up clinging to his broom upside down, Charlie had swooped under him immediately, catching the poor toad before it met an untimely death a hundred feet below. James had started lobbing small stones at Charlie ("For fun," he'd said), charmed to float to the ground slowly, like Quaffles, and he was itching to try Charlie with an actual Snitch. No matter what, Charlie had the falling object in question in his clutches in moments, it seemed. It appeared utterly effortless for him, which James knew was the mark of a born Seeker. Unfortunately, he already had a Seeker for the Gryffindor team, and while she wasn't too bad, she made James' stomach leap about with constant worry during matches. He wanted someone who was more of a sure thing, someone like Charlie Weasley. But until he reached second year, Charlie was ineligible, so it probably wasn't worth asking McGonagall for permission to bend the rules a bit.

Bill grinned at James Potter, gratified to see that he smiled back. He'd been relieved when James had approached him after finding out about the party planned for Charlie and asked whether he thought Charlie might like a broom, to prepare for being on the Gryffindor team the next year.

"And," James had also said, "I don't think you grassed on us that time. I'm fairly sure it was Snape or Karkaroff." He looked contritely at the younger boy. "Sorry we came down on you a bit."

Bill drew his mouth into a line to hide his emotions; he didn't want the older boy to think he was going to fall apart because he'd received an apology. "That's okay," he said stoically. "Thanks."

James nodded; he felt Weasley was all right, and his brother, too. Good, solid Gryffindor material. And though Bill knew about Remus being a werewolf, he hadn't told anyone. That didn't seem like something he would do if he'd ratted on them. Plus, Lily had told him he'd better apologize to Bill and stop treating him like a pariah. He didn't tell Bill that. Sirius was already starting to call him hen-pecked. It wasn't that so much as he trusted Lily's judgment more than his own on certain things. After he'd apologized, he knew she was right about Weasley.

The party started to draw to a close. Bill and the other third years took responsibility for the clearing-up. While Alex Wood and Geoff Davies threw wrapping paper into the fire and Jack Richards and Mary Ann Boxwood swept the crumbs off Hagrid's huge table, Bill waved his wand to move the plates into Hagrid's stone sink, and Juliet Hathaway heated water from the pitcher on the shelf and caused it to pour over the dirty dishes. She grinned at Bill, and he looked happily back at her. For once Wallis wasn't around. Lily glanced at James before they left. She gestured to Bill and Juliet with a sly smile and a nod of her head, taking James's hand and leading him outside. Remus, Sirius and Peter had already left for the castle.

After they'd closed Hagrid's door, James pulled Lily into a deep kiss. When she broke it, she leaned her forehead on James's chin, a secret smile pulling at her mouth.

"Aren't they cute together?" she whispered.

"Weasley and Hathaway? And he's only fancied her for—what? A year or two? Moves fast, he does."

She hit his shoulder lightly. "You should talk."

He held her more tightly. "What? I've got you now, haven't I?"

"Not completely," she breathed. "Not yet," she added, before pulling his mouth to hers again. She could feel the tension move through his body as he processed her words. When he pulled his mouth away from hers slowly, she gazed at him with an expression that made her meaning abundantly clear.

"How about Saturday night?" he asked, hardly able to get the words out. "I—I know a good place. Private. Comfortable."

She nodded, looking at the clasp on his cloak. Her chest felt tight with wanting him; she gazed at his dear, dear face, hardly daring to think about how much she loved him, how happy she was that they'd finally found their way to each other. "I trust you," she said simply, not knowing how affecting those simple words were to him.

I trust you.

He couldn't recall anyone having such unfettered faith in him before. Even his best friends, when they'd been learning to be Animagi, had constantly bombarded him with questions and doubts. If Remus bit them when they were in animal form, would they really be safe? Could they hold their animal forms, guaranteed, without reverting to their human forms if Remus gave them a fright or otherwise made them lose concentration? They'd all been in it together, but when doubts were felt, they were expressed, not held in. They trusted each other for the most part, paired with an inherent skepticism that was healthy, that had protected them all thus far.

But Lily—her simple I trust you, crept into his heart and made him feel he must never do anything to violate that trust. He kissed her soundly before they wrapped their arms around each other and walked back to the castle in the soft snow, each looking forward to the weekend.

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Saturday, 18 February, 1978

"Where are we going?" Lily whispered. It was nearly midnight and they were walking through the corridors under James' Invisibility Cloak. Lily had a jumpy feeling in her stomach. Here's the Head Girl, sneaking out late at night again. With the Head Boy, this time. She was glad of James' cloak but was still nervous about Filch. She'd never liked him—but then, she didn't know of a single student who felt the opposite.

"We're here," James whispered. They stood before a tapestry. James lifted it out of the way, revealing a stone wall.

"Amanuensis," he said softly, and the stones dissolved, revealing an opening in the wall, through which they crept. She started to remove the cloak but he stopped her. "Not yet," he breathed against her ear. She shook from head to toe when he did this, looking at him in the torchlight filtering through the cloak; his eyes were dark with passion.

She nodded, since he clearly knew what he was doing, and, his arm around her waist, he guided them down a torch-lit corridor with doors on either side, every twenty or thirty feet. They made a few turnings before he came to the door he wanted. He took out his wand and said quietly, "Alohomora!"

The door swung open slowly, and after they closed it firmly behind them James put a locking charm on it, plus a silencing charm. She turned to gaze at the room; it was dim in the moonlight and sheets were draped over the furniture as if it hadn't been used in a very long time. Cobwebs ornamented the chandelier hanging high above them, as well as covering the andirons standing before the firebox and connecting the pieces of furniture to each other.

James folded up the cloak and waved his wand at torches on the wall and at the fire. Flames sprang up, but they merely served to further highlight the room's air of shabby desolation. Lily raised an eyebrow.

"Give us a sec," he said quickly.

"Us?" Lily said, starting to smile.

James shrugged. "Mum always said that. Dad teased her about it. Like the royal 'we.'"

Lily swallowed, remembering afresh his grief over his parents' deaths. "They loved each other very much, didn't they?"

He nodded, gazing at her, before waving his wand again. "Finite incantatem."

Now she could see what a shielding charm or illusion charm had kept her from seeing before: the room as it really was. The air before her shimmered for a few moments, and she saw a table with two chairs before the fire, laid with pristine white cloth, and a scrumptious chocolate mousse waiting to be eaten. A music box played her favorite tune (Für Elise) while the firelight played over the lush carpet in front of the hearth and over the beautiful carved furniture, including a huge four-poster bed in the corner with deep purple damask hangings and a matching coverlet. There wasn't a cobweb in sight, nor a white sheet. She turned to James and laughed.

"Tried to make me think you'd brought me to some dreadful place, did you?" She couldn't stop smiling if she'd wanted to. He took her in his arms.

"If I had, would you have stayed?"

She nodded. "This is nice, but in a way, it doesn't matter. It's you I want to be with, not a pile of furniture. But—where are we, anyway? I've definitely never been in this part of the castle."

"It's the staff wing. No one's been using these rooms for ages. I snuck in here in my Invisibility Cloak to fix it up, and I put the charm on it yesterday to make it still seem disused, in case someone came in here anyway. The Invisibility Cloak was also useful for finding the staff wing in the first place, not to mention lurking near the entrance, to hear one of the teachers say the password to enter."

He was suddenly unable to remember what he'd been talking about. All he could do was gaze into Lily's eyes, her beautiful green eyes, and lean forward for a kiss. He wasn't certain how long they'd been kissing when Lily pulled back and took his hand, walking slowly toward the bed. He followed her, shaking. This is actually going to happen. I'm with Lily. Me. James Potter. Lily Evans. What's wrong with this picture?

"What are you smiling about?" she asked him, turning, her fingers doing something down his front.

"You," he whispered. Though he knew no one could hear them, he felt like whispering. "I'm just—I can't believe we're here. The two of us. I can't believe you want to be with me."

She shook her head. "Silly James. We've hardly been apart for the past week. You didn't think I've wanted to be with you?" she laughed. "Could you ever before imagine me, in the corner of the common room, kissing a boy while sitting on his lap in an armchair?" She blushed to think of it. She and James had been together in the common room every spare moment since the sleigh ride. Sirius had sometimes thrown cushions at them and told them to get a room (with a slightly disturbed expression behind his eyes). And though they'd turned the chair to face the corner, more than once when she'd stood and emerged from their lair she'd been greeted with whistles and catcalls and cries of, "Good going, Potter!" She'd borne it with just a bit of blushing, unable to reprimand or take house points or give detentions because she was just too happy. She hadn't known she would feel this way, like nothing else mattered in the world. "I can't believe you want to be with me," she told him, pushing his robes from his shoulders; they felt to the floor behind him.

Oh, he thought. She was unbuttoning my robes. He felt mentally deficient suddenly, unable to remember what he should do next. But his fingers seemed to move of their own accord, a sensory memory that evidently lived in his digits, not his brain. When her robes were also in a puddle on the floor she took one of his fingers and drew it into her mouth, gazing at him with those eyes…

He drew in his breath, wishing he'd learnt a spell for removing their clothes more efficiently, but Lily seemed intent on a leisurely pace, so he went along as she unbuttoned his shirt and drew it off his arms and he unbuttoned her blouse. When she stood before him clad only in her bra from the waist up he remembered her in the pool at Ascog, and started to wonder whether he'd be able to keep up the leisurely pace.

She kissed his chest while working at his trouser fastenings and his stomach clenched, remembering the way Bonnie had recoiled at the reality of his penis. She'd seemed like she was going to retch the first time, and he waited apprehensively for Lily's reaction. She drew his trousers down and helped him step out of them, and he grew more and more anxious. The evidence of his desire for her was unmistakable, straining against his boxers.

She smiled and stood. "Well," she said against his chest, her tongue reaching out to lap at his nipple. "I won't ask you whether you're certain about this. You seem certain to me," she joked softly, still smiling. James was shocked, and his face must have shown it. Now she was alarmed. "What's wrong? Oh, god, you—you must think I'm—that I'm a—"

She turned away, her face crumpling, and sat on the edge of the bed, tears falling down her cheeks and dripping from the end of her nose. James was baffled. "I wish I could turn back the clock, I really do. You'd probably like for me to be a virgin," she sobbed; "a blushing little virgin who's never been with anyone else. I'm sorry, James, but that's not who I am. And I know about plenty of girls here who've been around a lot more than I have, so good luck finding your little innocent—"

"Lily!" he said, interrupting her, his eyes wide, not having expected this reaction. "What are you going on about? Hell, I'm glad you have more experience than me! I don't—I don't think I probably knew what I was doing with Bonnie, frankly, and it wasn't as if she let me work things out. She always wanted everything to be over quickly. I feel like a complete dunce about this sort of thing, and I was hoping that—that you'd help me when it comes to—to what you like. I don't give a damn that I'm not the first bloke you've been with, Lily. I hope—" he paused, swallowing. "I just—I hope that I'm the last—" he finished softly. Her eyes widened as his meaning sank in.

"Oh, James," she said simply, sliding her arms around his neck. The bare skin of their stomachs met, and James couldn't believe the warmth emanating from her body as she pressed against him. Their mouths were fused together, they hungrily drank each other in. The rest of the clothing was removed rather quickly and soon they were on the bed, side-by-side, nothing to hide from each other any longer.

He tried to let go of his expectations, forget his earlier disappointing sexual experiences, just revel in her body and her reactions and enjoy the unfamiliar sensation of her moving her hands and mouth over him, trying to arouse him (not that he needed much help), which was new and different and wonderful. He was sometimes more tentative than she wanted him to be, he could tell, and he tried to move past this, shed his doubts. He tried not to expect the reprimand he'd received from Bonnie when he'd moved his mouth down her body and tried to make her feel as good as she was making him feel. Instead Lily gently took his hands in hers and guided him to the place he sought, gasping and throwing her head back, moaning continuously when he'd found it, and when she finally shuddered all over and cried out his name repeatedly, he felt incredibly powerful and like the luckiest man in the world.

He moved up her body again, kissing everything along the way, and when he reached her mouth, she surprised him by pulling him down hungrily, her tongue tracing his lower teeth, her hands moving down his body, until she curled her fingers around him and made his head reel. He felt her legs wrapping around him even as she continued to move her hand, and then there was no Lily and no James, but a new person, one being consisting of pleasure, of firelight lapping at rosy-hued skin, and rocking hips and kisses and finally, of molten pleasure rolling through them both indiscriminately, leaving them tired but sated and thoroughly at peace.

Lily felt too warm to be under the coverlet; she lay with her head on James' chest, her leg thrown over his hip, her lips idly kissing his chest occasionally. She felt lazy and indolent and utterly content. James stroked her hair before following the line of it down her back and tentatively brushing his fingers along the curves of her lovely bottom. She snuggled closer, a small sigh telling him the caresses were welcome, so he kept on, wanting to hear her make that little noise of approval again.

"We have chocolate mousse, remember," he whispered as she traced the palm of his left hand with her fingertip.

"Hmm," she murmured contentedly. "I wonder how you would taste with chocolate mousse." She smiled against his chest as he groaned from the implication her words carried, and she laughed, tickling his ribs mercilessly, where she knew he was most sensitive.

"You little—" he started to say, laughing, tickling her back. Soon he had her on her back, screaming for mercy as he pinned her legs between his and moved his hands over her ribs. But then they both sobered and he moved his hands to her breasts instead, cupping them, feeling the tips harden…

Eventually he put his hands on either side of her and leaned down to kiss her, growing aroused again. Before his mouth made contact with hers, she spoke softly, her eyes full of love and desire.

"I wasn't kidding about the chocolate mousse."

#/#/#

Wednesday, 5 April, 1978

Lily walked into the Leaky Cauldron, her heart thrumming with anticipation. She had to promise to be home by six so she could celebrate her birthday with her family, but James was taking her shopping in Diagon Alley, followed by lunch anywhere she wanted to go in Muggle London. She had been floored.

"You mean a real restaurant, with—"

"—real waiters, and no floating food or puddings that make faces at you before you eat them or elves clearing the table between courses—"

She had laughed. Sometimes she did miss the way things were done in the Muggle world. The one person to whom she would never admit this, of course, was her sister, as Petunia would point and say, "Aha! Even you think they're freaks!"

Recently, Petunia seemed to reconsider her position on magic slightly. She had started bombarding Lily with questions while they were waiting at the hospital for their mum to come out of her chemotherapy treatments. This was not exactly the way Lily had envisioned spending her Easter holiday: trapped with her sister and brother-in-law in a hospital lounge. Although, given the way her Christmas holiday had gone, perhaps she should have expected it.

"Didn't you say once that—the sort of people at your school—" Petunia furtively, glanced at the other people in the lounge; "—live longer than—other types of people?"

Lily swallowed and answered cautiously, "Yehss—" wondering, Where is this going?

"—and they have certain treatments that other people do not?" Lily made a noncommittal noise, not looking at her sister, but at the magazine she was pretending to read.

"So couldn't you probably, you know," Petunia said, dropping her voice still more, "do something about Mum's situation?"

Lily grimaced at Petunia's ignorance. "Not me personally, no. I don't have the proper training. There's a particular hospital where training for that sort of medicine takes place. And it doesn't take—patients like Mum—" she whispered back to her sister.

Lily glanced with distaste at her brother-in-law, sitting beside Petunia. Vernon Dursley was looking very much like his father these days; he had recently taken over the Grunnings drill plant from the old man and Petunia was no longer working as his secretary but staying at home, 'keeping house,' as she put it, which Lily strongly suspected consisted in large part of gossiping about her neighbors. Petunia had found Vernon a competent young man to be his clerk, rather than a young woman. Lily shuddered to think of the screening process; Petunia had personally taken in hand the task of finding her replacement. No twenty-year-old would-be models with long blonde hair and legs all the way down to the floor, not for her Vernon. Petunia did not want competition. Lily had bitten her tongue painfully; she had shown remarkable restraint in not telling her sister that Vernon Dursley was the last man in the world who was going to be pursued by supermodels (who would not be caught dead clerking at the Grunnings drill plant in Surrey).

Petunia had turned up her nose at Lily upon hearing her cryptic answer to Petunia's cryptic question, and muttered, not for the last time, "Freaks. Every last one of you."

Lily entered Diagon Alley from the yard behind the pub and worked her way toward the bookstore, where James was meeting her. She was a few minutes early and had an enjoyable time window shopping on the way to Flourish & Blotts. Then, while standing outside the apothecary, admiring a set of solid gold weights with intricate etchings, something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. It was just a flick of a robe; a second later, it was gone. Lily turned slowly, still pretending to be checking something in the window of the shop; the apothecary had a bay window for display at the front, and standing to the side of it, peering in one of the angled windows, Lily saw the man who'd ducked out of sight down a narrow passage between two shops on the other side of the alley. She couldn't see him directly; he didn't seem to realize that she could see him reflected in the glass before her. He was in a hooded cloak and a mask. She drew in her breath. Is he a Death Eater? Is he about to do something dreadful?

She felt uneasy about the person being behind her and started to snake her hand into her cloak, reaching for her wand. Since her seventeenth birthday, she always had her wand with her in the wizarding world. Holding it at her side, the wand hidden in the folds of her cloak, she turned her left side slightly toward the lurking, masked man, and she saw that he was eyeing a large auburn-haired man standing abnormally still before the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. From his hiding place, the masked man was raising his wand and pointing it at the auburn-haired man. She caught this in the angled shop window; he evidently didn't think anyone had noticed him.

She stopped watching the masked man and strode forward purposefully, greeting the targeted man with a hug and tugging him away from where he would have been in the masked man's line of fire.

"There you are!" she cried with mock enthusiasm, as if she knew him. "What took you so long?"

The man was flustered and not a little annoyed. "What the hell?" he said, frowning, as red sparks struck the window of the Quidditch supplies store, exactly where he'd been standing a moment before. He was very alert suddenly and pulled out his wand.

The masked wizard jumped out from the niche where he'd been hiding and aimed at the auburn-haired man again, but Lily raised her wand and cried, "Stupefy!"

Her spell hit him squarely and he toppled over, but another person she hadn't noticed before turned toward them; he'd been feigning interest in the window of a shop selling second-hand robes. He also aimed his wand at the auburn-haired man, and this time the man she'd accosted was prepared. His spell exactly intercepted the line of crackling light heading toward him, making it bounce off a pile of cauldrons sitting before a shop. While he used his right hand for this, he used his left to pull Lily behind him, which she found rather annoying as she had already stunned one of his attackers. He'd grabbed her right arm to do this and she struggled to free her wand arm as he focused on the remaining Death Eater, beginning to pronounce the spell to stun him. Suddenly, with a pop, the second attacker was gone, and shoppers in the vicinity looked askance in their direction, muttering to themselves as they went on with their shopping, cynical and jaded in this age of Voldemort. The first man lay on the cobblestones. Shoppers stepped over him, unconcerned.

Lily finally managed to shake off the hand he had wrapped around her upper arm and was faced with a rather irate-looking man in his mid-twenties.

"Thanks a lot!" he said, frowning. "Thanks to you—"

"—you're still alive and in one piece!" she finished for him. He did not put his wand away.

"I was going to say, you screwed up everything!" he responded, turning red in the face.

"He wouldn't have got away if you hadn't dragged me behind you!" she answered his accusation hotly. "I could have stunned him while he was aiming at you!"

"When I need the help of a civilian, I'll let you know!" he practically growled at her, eyeing her robes, which were open over her Muggle skirt and blouse. "And a Muggle-born one at that, by the look of you."

Lily bristled. "If you're an Auror—"

"Sssh!" he said, putting his hand over her mouth. "Shut up!" he hissed, dragging her into the bookshop and down aisle after narrow aisle, finally ending up near the back of the shop, where they were surrounded by dusty stacks that appeared to have been untouched for decades.

She extracted her wrist from his clutches, rubbing it (hough she was mostly indignant, not in pain) and glaring at him. Positioning himself against the wall and glancing warily down the aisle, he said out of the corner of his mouth, "Yeah, I'm an Auror. I was trying to bring those two out into the open and make them think I wanted to capture them. We knew they were given an assignment—to capture me and worm certain information out of me. It was all a plant, a set up. I was supposed to let myself be captured, so I could give bad information after letting them torture me for a while. And then you had to 'save' me."

Her jaw dropped. "Why couldn't you still have let yourself be taken, if that was the plan?" She was shocked that the plan included his intention to be tortured.

He sighed. "Because a civilian became involved. They could have taken you at the same time as me. Then it would have been you they'd have tortured to make me talk. I'll put myself in that position, but not another person, especially a civilian. And I didn't want you to be hurt trying to do something heroic to save me, either. By the way, he could have had a clean shot at you when you hugged me back there. Not too bright."

She shrugged. "I knew I wasn't his target. I could see that you were. And forgive me if I don't normally think of that as a good thing."

He started to say something but changed his mind and said something else. "Wait—how did you know he was targeting me?"

"I saw his reflection in the apothecary's window. He didn't know he'd been seen because I wasn't facing him. And I think that unless you're standing in a specific spot, the place where he was hiding can't be seen very well. One of the few ways to see where he was is by the reflections in that one side of the shop window."

He nodded. "Right, right." He observed her shrewdly, evidently not angry with her anymore. She regarded him carefully too.

"You look familiar," she said slowly. "Are you allowed to tell me your name? When did you finish Hogwarts?"

He evidently hadn't forgotten all of his manners and extended his hand to her. "Sam Bell. I finished in seventy-two."

"Ooooh!" she said slowly. "That's why you look familiar. You were the seventh year prefect when I was a first year. In Gryffindor, that is, obviously," she added, feeling foolish.

He squinted at her and shook his head. "And you are—"

"Lily Evans," she said quietly, not expecting him to remember. But his face lit up with recognition.

"You're Lily Evans? But you were this little, skinny—"

She smirked. "Thanks ever so much."

He had the good grace to redden. "Sorry. I'm being rude. I just—well, you've changed rather a lot, haven't you?" Lily was surprised by how boldly his eyes raked over her. She wondered whether he was a bit of a rogue with women or just not very well-versed in manners.

"That will happen between the ages of eleven and eighteen," she informed him archly. He was friendlier now and gave her a sunny grin that made it difficult to remain cross with him.

"Good point," he conceded. "I heard you were made Head Girl. Congratulations."

"Thank you," she answered, having been more comfortable with slightly-antagonistic Sam Bell than with the friendly version. She remembered that he was six years older than her and that they were standing in the back of Flourish & Blotts, hidden in a stack of moldering old books well away from other shop patrons. She felt very self-conscious about this suddenly.

"And isn't Potter Head Boy? Couldn't believe that when I heard it. Potter! That little scrawny—"

"—boyfriend of the girl you've decided to corner in the back of the bookshop," came a familiar voice. She turned and saw with relief that James was striding toward them, his robes billowing out behind him, and, she was gratified to see, looking distinctly non-scrawny.

Sam Bell was unflatteringly flabbergasted. "Potter! Well, I'll be—how are you?"

"Fine. And you are—?"

"Erm," Lily jumped in, trying to sound as natural as possible. "You remember Sam Bell, don't you, James? Seventh year when we were in first?"

James Potter eyed Sam Bell appraisingly. Lily could see that Sam recognized James' attitude as hostile and a bit jealous. Sam grinned ingratiatingly at him and extended his hand. James took it, reluctantly.

"I hear you're Head Boy. And Quidditch captain. I was captain my seventh year. Prefect, too, but not Head Boy."

James disconnected his hand after they shook. "Yeah, Quidditch captain," he echoed, still eyeing Sam hostilely.

"Erm," Sam said awkwardly, "listen. Don't have time to catch up. Nice to run into you both. Ta."

With a soft pop! he was gone. James raised an eyebrow at Lily.

"And why were you back here with him?" he wanted to know. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"I'll tell you over lunch. It's probably best discussed once we're well away from other wizards."

So when they were eating her birthday lunch at the Ritz she explained to him about Sam being an Auror and "saving" him. She didn't mention that he'd been trying to get captured; something in her made her glance around and think security nightmare as she considered what to tell James. She didn't think of it as lying to him, but protecting him (and Sam).

James was a little disgruntled. "I hope he thanked you properly. What's the world coming to when an eighteen-year-old girl has to save an Auror's arse!"

"Sssh!" Lily said quickly, glancing at the Muggle patrons of the restaurant. "Watch what you say here," she said, sotto voce, her eyes shifting around. James laughed.

"You're acting like you're a spy now, Lily," he said, smirking, as if this were the most ridiculous idea in the world. But Lily remembered Sam asking her how she'd known he was under attack, and the impressed tone in his voice after she'd told him. Was it so ridiculous? she thought. She still hadn't worked out what she was going to do after she left school. Perhaps she had something she should consider now.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her cheerfully, taking a sip of water. She bit her lip, wondering whether she should tell him. Lily Evans, Auror.

Instead, she decided to change the subject. "Come with me tonight," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"You—you've never met my parents. Do come. Petunia won't be there. You know her; she claims she has a prior engagement. So it'll be just me and Mum and Dad. I want them to meet you. To—to like you," she finished softly. James's eyes opened very wide and he took another sip of water.

"All—all right," he said swallowing. She smiled at him, knowing that he was no longer thinking about Aurors but instead busy panicking about meeting her parents. It was sneaky of her, to distract him this way, and yet—she really did want him to meet them. And vice versa. She examined James again as she ate her lunch. She had meant what she'd said to Sirius about James, and she felt like this was another step in her future being finalized. Lily felt a trifle overwhelmed for a moment; in one day, she'd decided that she just might want to be an Auror and had taken another step toward James being part of her family. It was a landmark birthday indeed.

#/#/#

Friday, 2 June, 1978

"That was brilliant," Jack said as he and Geoff left their Transfiguration exam. Bill and Alex were waiting for them in the corridor. The two Gryffindors fell into step beside their Hufflepuff friends as they strode down the corridor, anxiously awaiting the news.

"So? It went all right? And McGon—I mean, she didn't suspect a thing?" Alex asked in an anxious whisper.

Geoff grinned at his friends. "She had no idea. It helped that you two were outside the window, flying about, so Jack could say, 'Oi! What's Weasley up to?' and that sort of thing. Worked every time."

Bill shrugged. "I borrowed Charlie's broom. The school brooms are hopelessly poky."

They all felt a rush of freedom through their chests; the Hufflepuff Transfiguration exam—written and practical—was the last examination the four of them had to withstand until Monday morning, when the Gryffindors still had Potions (all morning) and History of Magic to get through (all afternoon). The schedule was reversed for the Hufflepuffs: History first, then Potions. More importantly, the Transfiguration exam was the last one that had a practical portion that Geoff needed help with. After this, they could all concentrate on revision and quizzing each other on potions ingredients and Goblin rebellions. Or at least—they could do that after the Quidditch final, in the morning.

"Think Gryffindor'll win tomorrow?" Jack asked Bill and Alex. "I hate to think of Slytherin winning."

Geoff nodded in hearty agreement. "Everyone hates to think of that happening. I don't know a single person in our house who won't be cheering for Gryffindor."

"Right," Jack agreed. "Bill, is your mum coming and bringing the twins?"

Bill shook his head. "Dad sent an owl yesterday; they're all staying home after all. The twins are being colicky, Percy's teething again, Peggy fell from a tree, has her arm in a sling, and the bones won't be done mending until Sunday, and Annie's just being a general pain in the arse and is confined to her room all weekend. Something about nicking Mum's wand when she was napping and Transfiguring Peggy's favorite doll. You know: the usual chaos at my house. But Dad said they'll try to come to the first match Gryffindor plays this autumn, especially if Charlie makes the team."

"If?" Alex said, appalled. "Has he no more confidence in his son than that?"

The others laughed, then sobered. "It might be a bit rough tomorrow," Jack said, a warning in his voice. "I heard Snape really has it in for Potter, since Potter stole Evans from him."

Alex shrugged. "If there's one person Potter's not afraid of, it's Snape," he said confidently. "And it's Snape who broke up with Evans, remember? If he's cross about her being with Potter, he's no one to blame but himself."

"I know," Jack answered. "I didn't mean it that way. I just mean—well, he does seem cross about their being together. I thought he was good at giving the Evil Eye before. It's worse now."

"It probably doesn't help that Potter's just made it onto the English team as a reserve Chaser, after they lost Wellington in the match against Finland. And it looks like England might be in the final of the World Cup, in August. Wouldn't that be brilliant, if we knew someone who won the World Cup?" Jack said in awe.

"Well," Bill cautioned; "he's a reserve. He might not play, even if England does win."

Jack shrugged. "Still—"

The four boys failed to see a shadowy figure about to emerge from a boys' bathroom as they passed, chattering animatedly. His lank dark hair hung down on either side of his sallow cheeks; he no longer bothered to pull it back into a ponytail. Who cared what he looked like? If he wasn't careful, if he was anything less than repulsive, Narcissa Anderssen might try to shag him again.

Severus Snape shuddered at the idea. He thought of the boys' words: Wouldn't that be brilliant, if we knew someone who won the World Cup? James Potter, playing Quidditch for England. It had been enough to make him sick the first time he'd heard about it. And Lily was with him now.

It was clear, on the morning of the nineteenth of February (he would always remember the date) that she and Potter had shagged. The way she gazed at him was unmistakable. He remembered when she'd looked at him that way, when he was the one gazing into her softly glowing face, seeing that expression of amazement. He'd been unable to eat anything that day, torturing himself by imagining them together. Even swooping over the Quidditch pitch on his broom, getting the Slytherin Chasers to give him practice keeping the Quaffle out of the goals, wasn't enough to thoroughly distract him from his thoughts of Lily.

Not a month later he'd heard them in the library, heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing and sighing, and he hadn't had to look to know whose sighs they were; he'd recognize Lily anywhere. He was ashamed of himself for peeking through the books to see them kissing; when he thought one of them had turned toward him, he quickly strode out. After that it seemed that he was practically falling over them, time after time. Everywhere he went, he seemed to find James and Lily, Lily and James. It was almost like they were following him. And yet, from what he could tell, they were oblivious to the rest of the world, as if they were the only two people in it.

It happened again in late May, when he was doing revision for the N.E.W.T.s in the library. The kissing and sighing behind the stacks…

"James," she whispered, "I need to talk to you." Severus' ears pricked up; he knew that tone of voice. She was being very serious. Potter, however, wasn't paying attention. Severus continued to hear kissing noises.

"James," she said sternly. Severus knew that tone of voice as well.

"Yes, Lily. What is it?"

"I—I have to tell you something." Severus strained to hear, wondering what could be making her sound like that.

"Yes, yes. You said. What is it?"

"Well—" she hesitated. "I wrote a letter to Sam Bell."

Severus frowned. Who?

"Who?" Potter was having the same reaction.

"Sam Bell. You know, the Auror I saved on my birthday."

Auror? Lily saved an Auror on her birthday?

"Why would you write to him?"

"Well, you know how I—I hadn't made plans yet for what to do after I'm finished school…"

"There's no rush, Lily. And—wait. What do you mean 'hadn't made plans?'"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. Sam came here to Hogwarts to talk with me. Sending post back and forth wouldn't have been very secure."

"What are you talking about?" Potter sounded antagonistic, and Severus wasn't sure he blamed him. Who the hell is this Auror?

"What I'm talking about is—what we talked about is—what it's like to be an Auror. And whether I'd be any good at it."

What?

"What? Are you mad?"

Severus heard rustling and thought Lily might be extricating herself from James Potter's embrace.

"There's a lovely reaction. I've finally worked out what I want to do, and that's what you have to say?"

There was a tense silence. Severus resisted the urge to move closer to them to hear better.

Potter sighed. "I'm sorry, Lily. I just—I wasn't expecting this. So. You—you're going to be an Auror?" His voice sounded a bit choked.

"Well," she hesitated. "I'm going to take the exams to be admitted for training. I'd have to pass those with high marks. And if I do, there's the training itself. I'd have to make it through. But, yes. I'm going to attempt to become an Auror," she said very quietly.

"Come here," Potter said gently, and Severus heard rustling and sighing again; it seemed that Lily had returned to his embrace. "I'm glad you finally worked out what you want to do, I am. It's just—rather dangerous. I'm allowed to be worried about you, aren't I?"

Lily paused before answering. "So, you're not going to try to stop me?"

Potter gave a small laugh. "As if I could. As if anyone could. No, I'm not going to try to stop you. You certainly didn't try to stop me from trying out for the English team." He heaved a great sigh. "My Lily, an Auror. I admit, I'm having trouble picturing it."

She laughed ruefully. "So am I, a bit. But Sam says I have good instincts, and the training will teach me all of the tricks of the trade."

"Oh, Sam says, does he?" Potter definitely sounded jealous.

"Yes, Sam says. You're jealous, aren't you? You were jealous the first time you saw him."

Potter made a huffing noise. "Well—look at him. With his—his muscles. And—his—his being an Auror—"

Lily laughed. "Stop being silly. He's married, you prat. He showed me a lovely photo of his wife. And they're expecting a baby, in December. Sam's over the moon about it. Can't wait for the day his son or daughter can ride a broomstick and learn to play Quidditch."

"Oh," was all Potter said. Severus grimaced; he'd been having the same reaction to Lily mentioning Sam. But it didn't reassure him to know that this Sam Bell was married and about to become a father.

He leaned against the stone wall outside the boys' bathroom, listening to the footsteps of the third years receding down the corridor. In the morning, he was playing against James Potter for the Quidditch Cup. Three times as many people would be cheering for Gryffindor as for Slytherin. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin were undefeated, having won matches against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Slytherin had a boy who was arguably the finest Seeker the school had seen in years; however, Gryffindor had James Potter playing Chaser, James Potter who was a reserve Chaser for England.

Gryffindor had won both of their previous matches because of Potter, not their little Seeker. Potter had made the score so lopsided before the Snitch was caught (four-hundred to twenty in the match against Hufflepuff, three-hundred-thirty to forty against Ravenclaw) that the Seekers were almost beside the point. When the Snitch was seen by the Hufflepuff Seeker in that match, he had hesitated, knowing how the score stood, and the Gryffindor Seeker had swooped past him and claimed it. The Ravenclaw Seeker had had her pride, however, and raced to catch it before the girl from Gryffindor, even knowing that Ravenclaw would only have one hundred ninety points. They would lose the match, but at least she could say she caught the Snitch.

Severus knew it was up to him, as the Keeper, to control the game, to prevent Potter from unbalancing the score and virtually taking the Seekers out of the equation. Slytherin was trailing Gryffindor by two-hundred points in the race for the Cup. I will show Potter no mercy and win this match if it's the last thing I do at Hogwarts, he thought, striding down the corridor, catching up with the third-year boys. He barreled through the center of the group, making them scatter like tenpins, hearing their grunts of indignation with a smug satisfaction. With trepidation, they watched his dark figure storm down the castle corridor away from them, his robe flapping behind him like the wings of a bat.

#/#/#

Saturday, 3 June, 1978

Severus Snape flung the Quaffle as hard as he could to the nearest Slytherin Chaser, O'Brien. He actually caught it, Severus thought with an unbecoming smirk. But he was scowling again not twenty seconds later when Sirius Black hit a Bludger that blasted through O'Brien's broom twigs, leaving him with barely a straw on the end of his broom. The jolt made him lose his grip on the Quaffle and before Severus knew it, James Potter had grabbed it and was zipping back toward the Slytherin goal posts. If those idiots could keep the Quaffle away from him, or if the Beaters would hit a Bludger at his head, my job would be a hell of a lot easier.

James Potter paused momentarily, a lopsided grin on his face; most of the other players were at the other end of the pitch and hadn't reached the Slytherin end, as he had. He feinted toward the center goal, then the left hoop, and finally zipped past Severus Snape to put the Quaffle through the far right hoop.

"GRYFFINDOR, ONE-TWENTY, SLYTHERIN, ZERO!" cried the fourth-year Ravenclaw boy who was doing the commentating. Cheers went up from seventy-five percent of the crowd, boos from the Slytherins. Players sporting green and silver scarves started throwing butterbeer bottles onto the pitch, barely missing the girl who was the Gryffindor Seeker, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle and called for Filch to eject the students; she didn't call a time-out, though, as it wasn't a foul committed by players, and the game continued.

The same thing happened repeatedly until Severus started to wonder whether he was in a time loop. One-thirty to zero. The Quaffle sailed past him again, through the center hoop. One forty to zero. The crowd chanted Potter! Potter! Potter!

At last, when he threw the Quaffle to his Chasers after a Gryffindor score, they caught it and started zooming toward the other end of the pitch. He watched the two Seekers; the Gryffindor girl wasn't especially good, but it hardly seemed to matter with Potter playing for them. The Slytherin Seeker, on the other hand, was a boy from a long line of excellent Seekers. His dad still played for the Pride of Portree, and his grandfather had won the 1946 World Cup for Scotland. He knew they were lucky to have Craighead on their team. His heart was in his throat as he saw that the boy had seen the Snitch, and was zooming toward it. It was near the Gryffindor goal posts, not a foot off the ground. Severus' heart was beating a mile a minute. Gryffindor only has one-forty. If Craighead catches it, we'll have one-fifty and win! But then he realized they wouldn't win the Quidditch Cup, as that would only give them ten more points, and they were behind Gryffindor by two-hundred. He felt bile rise in his throat. It just wasn't fair!

A roar went up from the crowd; he'd let his mind wander and Potter had scored on him again! Gah, he thought, retrieving the Quaffle from its slow free-fall and hurling it toward a Slytherin player before noticing that he was a Beater. Damn! The beater instinctively hit the oncoming orb with his bat before realizing it wasn't a Bludger, which sent the Quaffle neatly into the hands of James Potter yet again. The Slytherin Seeker was hurtling toward the Snitch and the commentator was saying, "THAT'S GRYFFINDOR ONE-FIF—OH!"

Severus tried to block Potter again but he miscalculated and the Quaffle zipped past him through the hoop. And still the Slytherin Seeker did not know what was going on behind him, at the other end of the pitch. Severus didn't bother trying to retrieve the Quaffle; he watched with a lump in his stomach, watched the inevitable occur as Craighead grabbed the Snitch and held it up triumphantly, thinking he'd won the match, flying past the Slytherin spectators, grinning. The grin quickly faded from his face, however. They weren't cheering, as he expected, and Severus Snape felt badly for the boy; he was a brilliant Seeker. It wasn't his fault the team had a pillock for a Keeper, who couldn't keep James Potter from scoring again and again.

Everyone seemed stunned, including the commentator, who finally said, "THE GAME IS OVER AND GRYFFINDOR WINS, ONE-SIXTY TO ONE-FIFTY! GRYFFINDOR WIN THE QUIDDITCH CUP!"

Severus Snape descended to the ground near the Slytherin goal, feeling empty inside. He pushed at his hair in irritation, wishing he'd pulled it back, as he used to. His face felt rough and he realized he'd forgotten to shave that morning. Who cared what he looked like? Lily certainly didn't.

There she was, making her way through the throng surrounding the Gryffindor team, grinning at James Potter and finally throwing her arms around his neck, as he gathered her to him and kissed her thoroughly, while people continued to pat him on the back. He heard one or two shouts of, "Get a room!" as their kiss continued. Lily resurfaced, turning red, unable to stop smiling, and she and Potter walked back to the castle with their arms around each other, jostled by the crowd, and yet carving their own private space out of it.

James Potter and Lily Evans, the sort of couple no one would question. Both Gryffindors and excellent students (even Severus had to admit). Head Girl and Head Boy. They seemed to be made for each other. Why had he never seen that Sirius Black wasn't the real threat, nor even Remus Lupin? It was Potter all along. When they'd been together, she'd mentioned his name far too often for his liking. James said this and James said that. James James James. And then Potter had to go and save his life. That's when he first thought he might have cause to worry about Potter, but stopping it was like stopping gravity, or the march of time.

Gah.

Severus frowned at his hand; there were red blisters on the back. "Damn," he muttered softly to himself. "Missed a spot." He had to prepare so carefully for Quidditch, especially at this time of year, when even in northern Scotland the sun was beginning to grow quite strong. He took a small tube out of a pocket in his robes and rubbed a salve onto the inflamed skin, mentally cursing his porphyria. As he did so he watched the throng of Gryffindor supporters making their way to the castle; there were still a few subdued Slytherin supporters on the pitch but they were avoiding Snape. His eyes slid furtively over his teammates and he picked up his broom, walking toward the greenhouses. He didn't want to see anyone.

He reached the shelter of the oaks and after walking a few yards away from the entrance to the corridor of trees, stopped and leaned against one of them, staring into space. He remembered being here with Lily, telling her he loved her, kissing her…

He heard a step on the path, twigs and fallen leaves crackling as they were trod on, and he turned to see a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, walking into the oak allée toward him. Snape wasn't sure who he was, but something about him was familiar.

"Tough luck, Snape," the young man drawled. He had cornsilk-light hair and a pointed face, grey eyes betraying no emotion. Severus looked toward him, silent, wishing he would disappear. He remembered: Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa Anderssen's boyfriend. Brilliant, Severus thought. Just what I need. A jealous boyfriend come to hex me. That was five months ago! As if I wanted his sick, twisted girlfriend anyway.

"Remember me?" Malfoy asked, as if anyone could forget him. Severus spoke carefully, with almost no inflection.

"Malfoy. Seventh year when I was in first. Sorry you wasted your time coming today." I didn't want Anderssen, I didn't want Anderssen. Leave me the hell alone.

Lucius Malfoy smiled ominously. "It would have been nice to see a Slytherin victory, that's true. But I definitely did not waste my time by coming."

Severus did not meet his eyes in case Malfoy saw something remotely like guilt there. I do not feel guilty about what happened at that party, he thought stubbornly. But he knew that wasn't true. However, it wasn't because Anderssen had a boyfriend that he felt guilty; it was because of Lily.

To seem busy, and so he wouldn't have to meet Malfoy's eyes, he took out his tube of salve and rubbed some into the back of his hand again. He watched Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. The blond man smirked. "Is that what you do? To stay out in the sun? I wondered. It's rather bright today; you must be glad to be away from it again." Severus lifted his face to Malfoy's with narrowed eyes. The vampire thing again. He remembered Anderssen's little "kink," the way she'd asked him to bite her. Malfoy approached him and stood about a foot away from Severus, who felt very uncomfortable. What next? Is he going to ask me to bite him? What a warped pair they make. He decided to try to put a stop to it, scare him off.

He swallowed before saying softly, "Careful. Best not come too close. I'm rather peaked after a match." He tried to keep his face as impassive as possible while scanning Malfoy's face to see whether this had intimidated him.

It hadn't, not in the slightest. Instead Malfoy laughed. "I brought insurance," he informed him, pulling a necklace with a head of garlic out of his robes. Severus immediately recoiled, backing up and putting his hand over his mouth and nose. Malfoy laughed again. "I wondered whether people were putting me on about that. I can see they weren't." "People" being Narcissa Anderssen, Severus thought. "Of course, I should have known; you obviously haven't seen a mirror in quite a while." Severus flinched at the insult, but said nothing. "I want to speak to you. May I speak to you?"

Severus doubted it would be that simple. "About what?" About your girlfriend's vampire fantasy? Don't blame me because she's sick.

"What are your plans for when you're done school?"

Severus felt that Malfoy was not to be trusted. He said in a cautious, flat voice, "Working in my uncle's apothecary in Dunoon."

"Ah, Dunoon. The Firth of Clyde is quite beautiful, isn't it?" Malfoy was waxing rhapsodic. "Of course, I like Dunoon because of its bloody history. So. Uncle in Dunoon. Is he Scottish?"

He nodded. "My mother's brother."

"Mother's side. Hmmm. Dunoon. What's your uncle's surname?"

"MacDermid."

"Ah, Clan Campbell. Good. Not Clan Lamont. Weaklings. Of course, in Dunoon, chances are you're going to be one or the other. In all of Argyllshire, for that matter. Although anyone with sense agrees the Campbells had it all over the Lamonts centuries ago; they let the Muggles in their clan take over much sooner than the Campbells. I'm Clan Campbell as well, on my mother's side. She's a Bannatyne. Glorious, bloody history, Clan Campbell. My father's French family has almost as bloody a history—always managed to be on the winning side, whether it was the revolution, or the reversals that followed, or the Vichy regime. But no one can touch the Scots for bloodiness, eh?"

Severus stared at him. Where is this going? When is he going to accuse me of sleeping with his girlfriend? He did not answer. Malfoy continued, clearly enjoying hearing the sound of his own voice.

"You know what my favorite bloody story is? Takes place in Dunoon; you made me remember. The Massacre of 1646. After the Campbells hit the Lamont castles of Towart and Ascog with all they had, and the Lamonts surrendered. Our clan gave them a written guarantee of liberty. Of course the idiots believed that. They were taken to Dunoon in boats and sentenced to death in the kirk. Only a little over a hundred survivors. The histories say they were all shot or stabbed but we wizards know it was the killing curse did them in, except for the thirty-six 'special gentlemen' who were hanged from a tree in the kirkyard—I think they were half-wizard and half-Muggle. And then there was the Chief and his brothers. They were prisoners for a number of years; why they didn't kill them, I don't know. Of course, at that time, the Chief was still a wizard. Might have been because of that. The almost-dead were buried in the same pits as the dead. Think of it! Wish I'd have been there."

"Why are you telling me this?" Is that what he has planned for me? And for my uncle too? Wipe our family from the face of the earth?

"Because I think we're kindred spirits, Snape. Same house. Same Clan. And I'm hoping—same desire to serve the Dark Lord."

Severus' eyes widened only a little, trying to hide his surprise. He remembered Anderssen poking at his arm, saying something about a mark, and putting a good word in for him with Malfoy. Perhaps Malfoy didn't know about the incident at Ascog and this was proof that she was keeping her word. "Is that what this is about?" he asked, still cautious.

Malfoy stepped toward him again; Severus backed up instinctively and found himself against a tree. "I have a job to offer you."

"I told you; I have a job lined up," Severus said, internally cursing himself for the shake in his voice. Never show fear.

Malfoy stepped back, his smile in place again. "It's not a full-time job, though it's an important one. You'll have plenty of time to—work in your uncle's apothecary," he said with a patronizing sneer.

"What is it?" he spat.

"Do you know the boy who's the fifth-year prefect in Ravenclaw?"

Severus thought about this. Fifth-year Ravenclaw prefect. He pictured the boy. "I don't know him, just what he looks like. Blond boy." It was a darker, yellower blond than Malfoy, who was white-blond. The Ravenclaw had hair the color of dirty straw.

"Yes. Do you know who his father is?" Severus shook his head. "His father is a very important man. His father works very hard. He puts dark wizards in Azkaban. He's always working. And his son hates him for that, among other things. His son wants a way to get back at his father. But he's only in fifth year; he's young, doesn't know the right people. That's where you come in."

"How?" He hadn't meant to show interest, but the word popped out.

"You will get to know him, before school is out for the summer. Become his friend. Write letters to each other, invite him to visit you in Dunoon during holidays. I want you to become the big brother he never had. A father figure, for a boy whose father is too busy for his son. He needs someone like you, and you can be there for him. You'll have time; it will be two years before he's done school. I expect by that time, he will be ready."

"Ready? For what?"

"For one of these." Malfoy pulled up his sleeve, showing Severus what Anderssen had been talking about: a tattoo appeared to have been etched on the pale skin, the image of a skull with a snake for a long, eerie tongue. Severus drew in his breath between his teeth; he couldn't help it. Malfoy seemed glad that he'd impressed him. "You won't get yours until then, also. Don't want to tip off young Mr. Crouch too early. For now you'll be strictly an unofficial Death Eater."

Severus swallowed. Had he said 'Crouch?' "Crouch? Do you mean—Barty Crouch's son?"

"Yes. Barty Crouch, Jr. We fully expect him to be very useful. But we need you to—cultivate him. Make him ripe for the picking. You have two years. Should be enough, don't you think?"

Severus' head was swimming. This couldn't be happening. "But—his father! If I approach Barty Crouch's son and suggest that he become a Death Eater, what makes you think he won't report me to his father?"

Malfoy smiled. "He won't. Not if you do your job and make him trust you completely. He's wants to get back at his father as much as we do, and we've decided that using his own son will work nicely."

Severus swallowed. There had to be a way out of this. "What if I refuse?"

Malfoy stepped toward him with his wand out. "I will have to kill you. Fortunately, wands happen to be little pointy sticks made of wood," he said bringing it ominously close to Severus' heart, then pulling back. "I could alter your memory, but that's no fun. You'd still be walking around. I thought a dark creature like yourself would welcome the opportunity to serve the Dark Lord."

Severus Snape swallowed once, twice, never taking his eyes off Malfoy. "All right." He wasn't sure what he was doing, but suddenly, as soon as he said it, his voice no longer shook. He remembered Lily saying that she was going to train to be an Auror. That's what good little Gryffindors are supposed to do, aren't they? And what are Slytherins supposed to do? This, evidently. He felt odd, like a purpose for his life had suddenly been restored to him, a purpose that had been m issing since he'd ended it with Lily.

Malfoy removed a stoppered vial from a pocket in his robes. "Here," he said, tossing it to Severus, who caught it reflexively. He stared at the viscous red liquid inside, recognizing it, looking at Lucius Malfoy's face in disbelief. As his hand wrapped around the thin glass he could feel that it was warm.

"A gift," Malfoy told him before turning and walking out of the grove. Severus held the vial of blood, staring at it intently. He really thinks I'm a vampire. He looked up, but Malfoy was gone. Let him believe I'm a dark creature. It will only be to my benefit.

But as he walked back to the school, under the oaks, he felt like doing something violent, something destructive, and he gripped the vial in his hand tightly before throwing it so it broke against one of the larger tree trunks, shattering, splattering the blood. He walked on, feeling only a small release from the violent action, wondering what someone would think of the blood-spattered tree when it was discovered, wondering whose blood it was.

I'm going to be a Death Eater, he thought. And Lily's going to be an Auror.

It was official. They were enemies. There was no turning back.

#/#/#

Saturday, 4 November, 1978

They were a happy group trooping back up to the castle. Charlie bounced along jauntily, bursting with his first Quidditch victory. As he walked holding one of Peggy's hands and his father the other, Bill grinned at his brother. Charlie had been brilliant, swooping down on the Snitch before the Slytherin Seeker knew what was happening, and that was saying something, since Craighead was the most brilliant Seeker at the school. Was, Bill thought smugly, remembering the shocked expression on the third-year's face as Charlie looped around him, plucking the Snitch out of the air when the Slytherin's hand was only inches away from it.

Amazingly, Annie seemed the most struck by her brother's Quidditch prowess. Though they were normally combatants in a war that had begun on the day she was born, today she had asked permission to carry his broom for him after the game, and Bill and his dad exchanged smiles over her head. Annie was clearly idolizing her brother, though she didn't say anything outright, and Bill felt this boded well for the future. She would be a first year when Charlie was a fifth year and Bill was in his last year, and Bill was looking forward to it, three of them going to Hogwarts at the same time. The only thing that made him a bit sad was that he would be out of school by the time Peggy started, but he was glad she would have Annie and Charlie to show her the ropes, and she and Annie would be in fifth and seventh years when Percy started and could be his guides. Peggy and Percy would later help the twins, Fred and George.

Bill shook his head as he walked; his dad, holding Peggy's other hand so they could swing her between them every few steps, asked him why.

"I was thinking about when Percy's ready to start school and Annie and Peggy can help him out, like Charlie and I can help Annie when she starts. It must be hard to come without having brothers or sisters to show you the ropes."

Arthur Weasley smiled affectionately at his eldest son. "You did," he reminded him, as they swung Peggy over a puddle, making her whoop and giggle.

"Yeah, but I was lucky. On my first train ride, I was taken in by three prefects. I told you about two of them—James Potter and Lily Evans."

"Last year's Head Boy and Head Girl? I remember. That's what prefects are for, aren't they? Among other things."

Bill squinted at his dad. "Were you a prefect, when you were in school?"

His father was abashed, reddening slightly. "I was. I don't like to brag, but—"

Bill grinned at him. "You're allowed to brag to your kids, a little. Until we tell you to stop, anyway," Bill laughed.

Arthur regarded Bill fondly again; at nearly-fifteen, he was almost six feet tall, and if it weren't for his thin build he might routinely be taken for an older student. "I brag to Peggy all the time, don't I, Pegs?"

She beamed at her father, red braids flying as they swung her between them again. "It's not bragging if it's the truth, Daddy." She turned to look at Bill. "Daddy's the most brilliant wizard at the Ministry. He's going to be the Minister of Magic someday, you know."

Bill started to laugh before remembering that this was Peggy saying this. Peggy who seemed to have the Sight. He sobered, looking down at her. "Really, Peg? You're sure?"

"Sure I'm sure," she said cheerfully. "I asked for it for my birthday present, on Wednesday, and Daddy promised he would do it someday, and Daddy doesn't break his promises."

"Ooooh," Bill said in understanding. It wasn't one of those things she'd Seen; it was a promise from their dad. "Then I'm sure he shall be Minister of Magic, as he's made you a birthday promise. How does it feel to be six?"

"It feels like more swinging!" she crowed, leaping into the air between them and trusting that they would pull up on her arms and prevent her from winding up in her knees in the mud that inevitably marked the path from the Quidditch pitch to the castle at this time of year. They didn't disappoint her, and she was once more suspended between her father and brother, laughing merrily.

Charlie caught up and walked beside his brother. "Too bad Mum couldn't come," he said. Bill saw that he was disappointed about this, though he was putting a good face on it. Bill knew he'd worried about coming to school last year and leaving Mum to manage without him to help keep the younger children in order. Though he didn't always take well to caretaker duties—hence his rows with Annie—he didn't like the idea of their mum being more burdened.

Their dad sighed. "She wanted to, but your Aunt Meg was invited to a wedding and couldn't babysit for Percy and the twins, and you know how she is—she doesn't trust anyone else. I suggested she bring the younger boys, but she said she'd just be managing them the entire time, trying to keep them quiet, and she was probably right."

He grinned at Charlie, trying to comfort him, and Charlie gave him a grateful half-smile. "'S'okay, Dad. I understand."

"Tell you what; next time I'll take care of all five younger kids and let your mum come to see you play. And then she can have a nice visit with her two older boys here, without babies to fret over. Won't that be nice?"

"Without us?" Peggy said in real distress. Her father gave her a slightly stern look.

"Mum needs a break every so often, Peggy. It's not nice to begrudge her that."

Properly chastised, Peggy stared at her muddy boots and mumbled, "Yes, Daddy."

Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew walked behind the Weasleys, trying to find the least-muddy places to put their feet. Remus dug his hands deep into his pockets and breathed in the autumnal scent of Hogwarts. It was so strange to be back and not a student; he'd been rather at loose ends since they'd finished school in June, and was living at home with his parents. He'd answered a few advertisements in the Daily Prophet but no one had hired him. He didn't have a good plan for what to do, not like James and Lily. He couldn't believe Lily was training to be an Auror; it seemed like such an adult thing to do. He'd been very supportive of her and James' relationship since February, but there were times—especially before the full moon—when he still ached for her, and not just physically.

James had tried talking to him about it once, but Remus had put him off, telling him he was happy for them and not to worry about him. James had looked like he felt a bit guilty, as if he'd stolen Lily from him. Remus had found out why James was being like this when, on their last morning at Hogwarts, before taking the train home, James announced that he had asked Lily to marry him and she had accepted. Sirius hugged them both enthusiastically and Remus shook James' hand and tentatively hugged Lily, mindful of his werewolf strength. She'd gazed in his eyes searchingly and said softly, "Are you all right, Remus?"

The idea that she was worried about him made his heart turn over. He nodded through his unshed tears and told her he was looking forward to their wedding. However, since James was playing for England until the end of the summer, and after that was going to be trying for a position with a team in the League, and since Lily was going to be off doing something mysterious from September to January, they weren't going to have the wedding until the following June. Lily in particular seemed relieved.

"A whole year to plan!" she said. "Mum and I will need it."

Sirius was as aimless as Remus, also living with his parents, but to Remus' knowledge he hadn't applied for any jobs, as Remus had. When Peter had popped by, asking whether he wanted to come to Hogwarts for the first Gryffindor game and Remus had asked Sirius to join them, Sirius had declined, pleading a prior commitment. Remus had thought this very odd; what prior commitment could Sirius possibly have on a Saturday morning? Remus thought about Sirius' dating habits in school and assumed it must be a girl. That left him stuck with Peter for company.

He glanced sideways at Peter, whose mother had got him a job at the Prophet, in the research-and-fact-checking department. He spent his days sending owls to people to verify quotes, or correcting the spelling of names with the wave of a wand. It was fairly undemanding work, and Remus had almost been tempted to ask whether there was another opening, but the idea of doing the same thing as Peter was slightly depressing, and he decided to say that he hadn't found the right job for him yet.

"You sure we should go back to the castle for lunch, instead of going to the pub in the village?" Remus asked Peter. Peter shrugged.

"I only suggested it because I didn't think you had much in the way of money. We won't be trying to sit at the Gryffindor table or anything; I thought we'd nip down to the kitchens and see what the house-elves would like to part with. You know how they are."

Remus nodded; it was never a chore to cadge food from the elves, and he was rather short of funds. He put his gloved hand in his pocket and felt the five Sickles there, all he had in the world until his father gave him his allowance on Monday. Allowance.

I'm eighteen years old, I've had seven years of magical education, and I'm living with my mum and dad and drawing an allowance.

"Yeah, I know how the elves are," he answered Peter, unable to not notice the slightly smug expression on Peter's face. He knows I can't afford to go to a pub and have a nice meal any time I like.

He thought of the Hogwarts meals he'd enjoyed for seven years, then tried to forget about them again as his stomach moved within him. He hadn't had breakfast and was looking forward to a good lunch. He was especially hungry because the moon would be rising full that night; he wasn't going through the usual mania, though, because he'd discovered a werewolf pub in North Yorkshire where he'd traveled the night before (spending Muggle money he'd converted from wizarding currency), and met up with a girl there who was also a werewolf. She was a Muggle, as were most of the pub's patrons. He hadn't told her he was also a wizard.

She had helped him ease his carnal desires as he had helped her with hers, but there had been a middle-aged man across the room who had been giving Remus this look, and he'd almost abandoned her for the older man. He'd never known this was a possibility before, a pub like this, and was very grateful he had a way of being around people before the full moon now. Otherwise, he would have told Peter to go to the match alone; there was no way he could have withstood sitting with the other spectators, watching the match, if he hadn't had a release with Luna, the night before.

He'd asked her whether that was her real name, and she'd said, "Of course not! It's my werewolf name. I'd never tell anyone here my real name. What's your werewolf name?"

"Erm," he'd stuttered, "Remus Lupin." She'd snorted into her drink.

"How original. You know how many Remuses there are in this place tonight? Of course, there's a load of Lunas, too."

The conversation had been cut short and they'd gone up the stairs to one of the rooms set aside for this particular purpose, not caring about names, not caring about anything but their physical needs…

It made sense, when Remus thought about it. He didn't need to worry as much about hurting another werewolf, someone who was as strong as he was. But he'd felt a bit lonely and empty, lying in the grotty bed afterward (who knew the last time the sheets had been washed?) thinking of the first time he'd been with Lily. In spite of biting her, there had been a different feeling about the whole encounter. She was his friend, she'd had feelings for him, and she didn't run off afterward. She didn't give a false name and laugh at his real name. He hadn't been able to continue this train of thought, however, as another couple was pounding on the door, waiting to use the same room.

Remus smiled at Peter, glad that he'd been able to come to the match; he particularly missed his three friends hanging about with him during the full moon, and wasn't sure how to contact them and say, "You know how you all became Animagi to be with me? Can we keep that up even though we're out of school?" Now that they weren't living with him, they seemed to have forgotten about him. Once, during the summer, James and Sirius had invited him to visit them at Ascog, but it was a pure coincidence that it fell during the full moon.

They finally reached the entrance hall; there weren't many other students coming down to lunch, as it was early. Nonetheless, Remus' nose was already picking up on the heavenly aromas emanating from the kitchens, thinking of the willing elves who would give them as much food as they wanted.

The only other people in the hall were the Weasleys and—Remus felt like rubbing his eyes—Professor Trelawney, who was walking down the marble stairs, staring eerily at Bill Weasley's youngest sister. Soon Trelawney was crouching before the girl, whose hair was as red as her brothers', and the girl seemed transfixed, staring back, as if she couldn't tear her eyes away if she'd tried.

Bill frowned; he hated Trelawney and hadn't thought about what might happen if Peggy came to visit him at school. It certainly never occurred to him that Trelawney would come out of her tower.

Crouching before the six-year-old girl, her large owlish eyes magnified by her ridiculous glasses, she whispered mistily, "I could feel that you were here."

As if this were a trigger, Peggy froze. Still staring into space, she began to speak in a strange voice that did not sound like it was coming from her:

"In days to come the Dark Lord's fall is split by silver into gold. A triangle, each time, his bane.

"One corner is a lion tall, of good intent, named for the coal; twice hidden, both a beast and man.

"One corner comes from blood of yore, child of the silver moon so cold; Dark Lord's servant and lion's mate.

"Last comes a flame-haired daughter of war, caught between silver and the gold; one of two and one of many.

"The lion loves the daughter bright, as does the child of silver moon; but the Dark Lord's servant shall betray.

"What though they flee before their fate, three shall bring forth the days of doom, and love shall end the Dark Lord's reign."

On the last word, Peggy collapsed in a heap on the stone floor.

#/#/#

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